


lookin' good

by cresswell



Category: Lunar Chronicles - Marissa Meyer
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Sharing Clothes, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 13:45:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6909814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cresswell/pseuds/cresswell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is that my shirt?”</p>
<p>Cress froze, perched on her tiptoes in the rampion’s kitchen, and slowly turned to face Thorne. “Um… maybe?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	lookin' good

“Is that my shirt?”

Cress froze, perched on her tiptoes in the rampion’s kitchen, and slowly turned to face Thorne. “Um… maybe?”

Carswell was squinting at her, clearly having just rolled out of bed, making him appear dazed and confused. “Huh.”

Cress’s heart sank as she lowered her heels back to the ground. “Huh?”

He studied her for a few moments, making her squirm. Thorne wasn’t big— he was on the smaller side of average, simply because he was so lean and slight— but his shirt swallowed her, blue denim slipping off one of her shoulders. She hadn’t put much thought into it when she’d put it on that morning, but now she was afraid she was overstepping a boundary she hadn’t been aware they’d set, and that would be horrible, because she really didn’t want to be _that girl_ —

“I like it,” Thorne said finally, walking over to her. He gently tilted her face up and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “You look good in it.”

She would have blushed even if he hadn’t winked at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He reached around her to pull down the coffee mug she’d been grasping at when he’d walked in, and she went still against the counter, her heart beating in her throat. She’d slept pressed against his side hundreds of times, but still, having him leaning into her space made her feel warm all over. “In fact, I don’t know why I didn’t insist you wear my stuff before. Everything would undoubtedly look much better on you than on me.”

Cress scrunched her nose, grinning. “Oh, stop it.” She poked his side gently and he arched away from her. “You’re just being silly now.”

He wound his fingers through hers, bringing her even closer into his space. “Not at all,” he said. “You look good in everything. And the fact that it’s my shirt you’re looking so gorgeous in right now just makes it all the better.”

Cress pressed her flaming face into his sternum and he laughed, carding his fingers through her hair. She still marveled that she had him— had _this_ — when just a few months ago it had seemed like he was nothing but a far-away fantasy. And even more amazing was how much he praised her, like she was something to be worshipped and admired.

She knew he would tell her she was, if she ever gave a voice to the thought.

“Cinder entering,” a voice said from the hallway. “Three… two… one.”

Cinder walked in as promised, her eyes narrowed. Thorne, who had put a respectable distance between himself and Cress, lifted his hand to give her a salute. “Morning, Cinder.”

“Morning,” Cinder returned. “Hope my heads up worked.”

Cress wrinkled her brow in confusion. “Heads up?”

“You know.” Cinder gave them a pointed look. “Before I… walked in on anything.”

“Oh!” Cress pressed her hands to her cheeks. “No, we weren’t— there wasn’t— you wouldn’t have walked in on anything!”

“This time,” Cinder said with a wicked grin, and Cress was certain her face was on fire.

“Oh, come on, Cinder,” Thorne interjected, and even though his tone was light and teasing, Cress could tell he didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable or embarrassed. “Cress and I keep the kissing to a minimum when we’re in public.” He arched an eyebrow. “Unlike some people.”

Cinder gasped, making Thorne laugh. “That was one time!”

Cress pressed her smile against Thorne’s arm, fitting herself against his side. Her love for him was pressing almost painfully against her heart, and she wanted to be as close to him as possible. Thorne gripped the hem of her— _his_ — shirt almost absentmindedly, as though anchoring himself without even realizing it. “I’m just saying it’s kind of the pot calling the kettle black.”

Cinder rolled her eyes and made a face. “Whatever.” She picked up what she had apparently come for— a muffin— and was almost out the door when she stopped, turning to study Cress again. “Oh, I like your dress, Cress.”

Cress was so stunned that she forgot to say thank you, and then Cinder was leaving and Thorne was laughing so hard she thought tears might come out of his eyes. She laughed too, their foreheads close together, and shrieked when he tugged her in by the too-long hem of the shirt. “See?” He asked. “Told you you wore it better.”


End file.
